Thinking Bayonets
by I am She
Summary: Experiences make the man. Jasper is a man - allbeit a not all together living one - what experience made him the quiet vampire that he is today. Bella draws out the story of her brother-in-laws life... and death.
1. Beginnings

_do not own, not getting paid, all in the name of fun_

* * *

Graduation was a good concept.

In theory.

In practice it meant that Bella seemed to have no time to spend with her beloved, Edward, and his family anymore. She had just got them back and things were finally settling down in the sleepy little town of Forks in which they resided, but now that the end of senior year was only a week away, their teachers were all plotting the demise of the students of Forks High through sleep deprivation and ridiculous final workloads.

Of course, this didn't bother Edward nor Alice, who both lacked the need to sleep and had vampire speed and decades of experience on their side, but for the resident human.... Especially since she had stubbornly refused any help from her friend or love.

She was making the most of the opportunity presented to her to complete her workload. Most of the Cullen's had gone hunting - an extended overnight trip - leaving only three members of the family behind. And while Bella missed Edward on nights such as these she had managed to finish all but one of her final projects.

Her fiancé was somewhat of a distraction - what with all the dazzling that he tended to do.

Fiancé – that word still gave her the chills.

Her final project was proving to be more challenging however, a history thesis on the Civil War

Books and papers completely covered the vast surface of the Cullen's large and relatively unused dining table, but still the answer to the topic question eluded her. Dropping her pen with a dramatic sigh, an idea finally came to her.

"Jasper" she called. Who better to ask than a friendly neighbourhood vampire that just so happened to have lived through history. "Did you ever meet Lee or Grant? Were they really the great leaders that they seem? Was the War really an inevitability?"

A honey blonde head appeared suddenly, poking around the door. "Nobody is ever who they really seem - you more than most should understand that Bella, and the same can be said about situations; about wars. The cause of wars especially. Very rarely are they fought for the reasons in the history books - especially the history books that our - any in fact, any - high school uses. "

"What are you saying Jasper? That the Civil War wasn't really about slavery?"

"Now you've done it Bella!" a loud voice boomed from the direction of the family room. "We'll never get him to shut up now - and just when I was beating him too."

Bella let out a less than graceful snort of laughter at the look of pain that crossed the face of the tall vampire who was now lowering himself into the chair opposite her.

"Ignoring the comments from Emmett in the peanut gallery, that's exactly what I'm saying. Well in the beginning anyway. It was always in the background, but it was never the be all and end all matter. After Antietam that all changed of course. But you have to remember that history, for the most part, is written by the victor. The winner of a war is hardly going to paint themselves, nor their actions, in an unfavourable light. I wasn't fighting to keep slavery anymore than the Yankee soldiers were fighting to abolish it. At the start."

The brunette girl was confused. Jasper had no reason to lie to her about this, but why would they be taught something if it wasn't true. Or maybe that assessment was a little harsh - Jasper did say that, that was only in the beginning.

"Well...then... What were you fighting for?"

Jasper paused slightly, in thought as he angled his chair slightly to minimise the effect of Bella's warmth. While he had gained some control since the disaster that was her 18th birthday, there was no reason to push himself too far. "We were fighting for our home." he said finally. "For the loyalty of our States."

Bella closed her eyes, trying to concentrate on what the man in front of her was telling her. "I don't understand Jasper. Doesn't that amount to the same thing? Imean, the South wanted slavery and the North didn't, so by fighting for you State weren't you fighting for or against slavery?"

The vampire sighed. She had seen him do this many times while he was reading one of the many history books from his library - most of which were now spread in front of them. It was generally associated with him disagreeing with the author. "On the surface maybe, but until Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation.... Well that was the turning point really; it changed the meaning of the War. Antietam changed everything."

A large figure loomed in the doorway of the room. "Dude, your only saying that coz you're still bitter about losing."

"Emmett, for the last time I. Am. Not. Bitter." Jasper ground out from between his clenched jaw.

Bella cleared her throat before the disagreement could escalate. "As much fun as it would be to watch you two argue to the point of it deteriorating into wrestling for the third time today, I have an essay to write in order to graduate, which I have to do so that you guys' brother will change me so I can become an official part of this family. And how am I supposed to write the essay if everything I was taught is wrong." By the end of her tirade she was bordering on hyperventilation, much to Emmett's amusement.

"Breathe Bella," Jasper crooned, his amber eyes softening in amusement. "It will no good to anyone if Edward finds out that we let you pass out. Everything you were taught is not wrong, it just comes from a skewed perspective. You need to look at it through different eyes. Look at the people at the time, the North and the South. Their differences and their similarities. Look at them and you will see that it was more a minority against a majority; tyranny against liberty - the same lessons from the revolution nearly a century earlier. After Antietam and the Proclamation it was very defiantly about slavery, but until then, the North was just as racist - if not more so, that the South."

Emmett, who had now made himself comfortable at the table next to Bella snorted at his brother. "You lost, get over it Brother mine."

This time, he was ignored by both vampire and human alike.

"Look at the people?" Bella asked. Jasper nodded. "Well, you're a person of the time, tell me how it was?" she pleaded

Unsurprisingly, Emmett once again had something to say on the matter. "Bella, I'm only saying this coz you're my baby sis," he started with a laugh "but getting soldier boy over there to help you with you essay probably isn't the best idea. His own warped view is hardly popular opinion."

She raised an eyebrow, now perfectly plucked from Alice's latest 'Bella Barbie' session that morning, at the large bear like figure next to her. "You're just worried that I'm taking away your X-Box buddy. Besides, their history teachers Emmett - it's not their job to teach us to conform to popular opinion. It's their job to teach us to think for ourselves. So that's what I'm doing. I'm thinking outside the box by asking my future vampire brother in law, who has lived through the events himself, for help. I bet you no-one else in my class thought to do the same." To add a level of maturity to her argument, she stuck her tongue out at Emmett for good measure.

Jasper was now laughing at the scene in front of him. Long gone were the days when he could sense slight levels of fear and intimidation coming off of Bella when in the presence of his big burley brother. Long gone indeed. And he was glad for it. "Alright Bella," he start, moving on his chair, more out of habit than of the need for comfort. "I'll tell you my story if you think it will help you. But Emmett," he shifted his gaze to the other man "Emmett, if you are staying in here then you have to let her listen. We don't want her failing her finals after all."

A huff of air was the only reply, but Emmett, for all his complaining did not make a move to relocate himself. He merely pushed some of Bella's working papers to one side so that he could lean his elbows on the dark wood surface of the table.

Ignoring this, Jasper turned his attention back to small girl, now radiating excitement and curiosity. "Are you comfortable Bella? Do you need anything before I begin?" She shook her head, smiling softly in encouragement. "Alright. I was only 17 when I joined the Confederate army in 1861...."

**

* * *

**

**Hi All**

**So this is just a little idea that I had in a lecture today. I hope that its readable to y'all. I have to be honest – I don't really know where it is heading, or if I'll continue – but, that said, I am open to persuasion. In other words – if you like it, let me know and I'll delve deeper into the mysterious world of Jasper Hale, and if you hate it, again, let me know and I'll stop before someone gets hurt lol!**

**Happy reading**


	2. goodbyes

_do not own: not getting paid: all in the name of fun:_

_

* * *

_

I remember that the morning of March 6th, 1861, dawned fresh and clear. Spring was approaching – you could feel it in the air. The nights were still crisp, but the days had started to gather the warmth that would last for the lengthy growing season – not that there would be much growth for the season that year. I, myself, welcomed the day along side my father, sipping coffee in silence as we watched the rosy sunrise turn slowly into the bright expanse of azure that characterised the sky over Texas.

It was our goodbye, of a sort, to the land that we loved.

My father, Jackson Alexander Whitlock was a military man, like his father before him, and while he had inherited the small family farm on the outskirts of Huston on his late father's death, it was the charisma and leadership that he showed in the Mexican war as a colonel that had allowed his to, more comfortably, support his family: his beloved wife, my mother, Elenora, his two beautiful daughters, my sisters, Patience and Temperance, and myself.

The farm was not large; enough land to grow vegetables and animals enough to sustain ourselves with some surplus for selling at market. But it was enough for us. From the age that I became able, I would help my father tend the property – the two of us working side by side were able to see everything done without the need to employ slaves. It was not that my family was against slavery, it was just my father's belief that the supply of slaves should be kept for the rich plantation owners he believed require the aid more that we. Instead he would spend his money on spoiling my mother and sisters.

Ordinarily, at least one of us – my father or I that is – would be left at home with the women to oversee their safety and anything that need overseen, but in this instance, in this new war, both of us would be fighting. Unlike me, Father had been called upon for his experience, like most of the soldiers from the war near twenty years earlier.

If there was one thing that the 'old soldiers' had learned, was love of our land. Texas had not been a member of the union for that long, having been dined access until Polk got the vote. Having had that limited connection and prior independence... well there was no way that we would be letting politicians in Washington tell us how to run our state.

A sentiment that my father installed in me.

A sentiment that lead me to lie about my age and enlist in the Confederate Union Army.

I knew that I would miss working on the farm and teasing my sisters, but ever since I had been a babe, my father would regale me with tales of fighting and heroism, so that by the time I was seventeen, as I was that morning, it seemed only natural for me to prepare for battle myself.

As the last of the haze of dawn faded to the bright of day my father turned to me, pride shining in his eyes so clear that even the newly born sun faded in comparison. No matter how long I walk the face of this planet, I will always remember the words he spoke to me that morning – the last words of any meaning that he ever told me. Not for any sentimental nor motivational reason, but the moment, that moment, became a snapshot of everything I had left behind.

"Boy," he said, "Son, you know that I love your sisters dear', spoilt them as I have your Mother, but you, you have always been special. There is so much of me in you Jasper, so much of me that it is impossible for me not to be proud of what you have become – what you _will_ become. You will make a fine soldier m' Boy, our home will never fail as long as you stand for it. You were born to be a leader Jasper – just as I was – just as your Grandpappy was. This is your destiny. I am only saddened that I will not be able to stand by and watch. But such as life."

He ran his hands through his hair then, causing some of the whisper fine strands of gold to fall haphazardly in front of his eye. For a man of his years and experience, he had aged gracefully; laugh lines surrounding his eyes from times of peace and a paper thin, faded scar running from widows peak to ear lobe from times of war the only marks that betrayed his life – I could only hope in that moment that I too would have such fortunes. The grey of his jacket however added a strange pallor to his tanned skin that the blue of his corporals' collar did nothing to reverse. It was almost as if the uniform new a secret of the death and destruction that was to come before anyone else did.

The two of us planned to go to the muster in the city after breakfast. Mama had insisted that we eat a good meal before we left – she didn't trust the military to feed us properly. While I was only 17 at the time, ten months shy of the eighteen years required; my father assured me that I would not be questioned about it. I was a tall lad – 6 foot 3 in a time where my father's own 5 foot 8 was considered beyond average. Said father was also a colonel in the new army. No, I would not be questioned. The cause needed all the hands it could get after all. I would also not be headed in the same direction as him. He had assured me that this was for the best. He and his men were destined to be led by General Lee, but Father felt it best that I make my own way in the world. He would help me get in, but then I would be on my own.

A crown of bright gold appeared in my line of vision, followed by a pair of sapphire eyes and the rustle of petticoats, as my younger sister, Temperance, appeared in front of me. She was only twelve and looked up to me like a god. But this morning, her usual bright and cheerful disposition was over cast – more in line with her name than was usually the case. I think my parents may have been a little optimistic when naming my siblings.

"You'll be comin' home soon, right Jas? You and Pa won't be gone long, right?" She asked, her almond shaped eyes threatening to overflow with unshed tears. Our father merely let out a snort of laughter, allowing me to take the fall of the question.

"Don't worry Tempy," I soothed. "We'll be home sooner than you can blink." A lone tear made its escape down her cheek, still rosy from sleep. "Okay?" She sniffed and nodded her reply before throwing herself onto my lap for a hug, her little arms forming a vice like grip on my neck. Before the rest of her tears could make themselves known however, the contrasting laughs from my elder sister and her new husband radiated towards us from the path leading up to the house.

"Now now Tempy, what good will Jasper be to Texas is you strangle him on our front porch?" Patience laughed. She had been married for less than a month, but her beloved, Frank Stapp was a doctor in the city meaning that he would not be enlisting with the rest of us. This was one of the reasons that both my father and I felt comfortable leaving the women behind like we were. We knew that Frank would care for them as well as we could.

Temperance let go of me with a small 'huff' of displeasure, glaring slightly at the other woman while smoothing out the wrinkles that she had created in the front of her pale blue dress. "Don't you care that Pa and Jas are leavin' Penny?" Patience and Frank had by this stage closed the gap and were now standing on the base step, allowing Frank to busy himself greeting our father with a manly handshake, and putting Patience in range to muss Tempy's hair. She was rewarded with a high pitch squeal at which the three of us men winced.

"Of course I'm sad their leavin' Tempy, but they are grown men, they can be carin' for themselves now. Or at least Pa is," She leaned forward to kiss the older man. "Mornin' Pa," she told him softly, to gain an arm pat and smile in reply. She turned to me, a sly smile playing on the corners of her pink mouth. "Jasper here still has to be provin' himself to be a man. But that should take him long."

Our Mother, noisily bustling through the door put a stop to any retort that Temperance may have had. My mother, Amelia Mary Whitlock, was a sharp contrast to the four of us – my father, myself and my sisters. Where we were all tall, blonde and blue-eyed, she was small and dark; round and soft as all mothers should be, barely passing the four foot mark. The thick mass of chestnut curls that she called hair rarely stayed bound in the snood that she would where around the house, while her eyes would shine like bright emeralds surrounded by her olive skin.

Never one to be impeded by her skirts, the green cotton swished merrily as she hurried onto the porch and over to our growing group carrying a heaving basket of fresh, hot biscuits. "Ah Patience, Frank, your'll just in time." She chimed, spotting the new arrivals. "Temperance, run you inside and fetch the bowls of butter and jam, we eat out here this mornin'"

Within seconds the young girl had returned and a heavy silence settled upon the party. The women not knowing what to say, understanding that any attempts to convince us to stay would be futile. The men, on the other hand, were just busy themselves with the consuming task of eating. I, like any boy, was convinced that my mother cooking was the best in the world and intended to make the most of it while I still could, but all too soon the food was gone and we were stuffed.

Catching my eye, my father nodded at me before raising himself out of his chair and moving around the table to embrace my mother. My parents were a couple that were in love as much that day as they had been when they were married. And demonstrative about it too. They never felt the need to shackle their emotions in the way that society deemed they should. He pulled the small woman from her chair, bumping the table and upsetting the cups, to pull her tightly against his chest and press his lips passionately against hers. As they broke apart he whispered something to her, too low for the rest of us to hear, before moving once again around the table, this time to press kisses into the blonde hair of the girls and shake Franks hand once more. As he returned to his seat to reclaim his haversack and yellow kepis he turned to me.

"Make you leave Boy." He bid me. "I'll fetch for the horses. It's past the time for us to be gone." Without another glance at the small group, he turned heal in the direction of the barn, leaving me to take leave of my family for the first, and last time.

My mother was first, the strong pillar of the family that she always was. She shed no tears, showed no emotion, only bid me luck and to return before wrapping me in her warn embrace. I was standing by now, and easily able to lift her off of her feet and into the air, swinging her around as I went. Once firmly settled back on solid ground she issued me with a swift smack to my ribs. "Jasper Alexander Whitlock!" she scolded "I didn' be raisin' you to act like no fool!" I would have taken her seriously if laughter and amusement had not been playing across her face.

Patience, ever the poised Southern Belle that our mother had trained her to be was just as stoic as the older woman in her goodbye, making Tempy's howling tears seem louder in the quiet of morning. With a final slap on the back from my brother-in-law I was at last able to sling my own haversack over my shoulder and stride purposefully toward the barn where my father awaited, our horses saddled and ready to make the short, dusty journey into Huston and our futures.

**

* * *

**

**Okay people, you know the drill – I write on demand but I'm not Edward, I can't read your minds. So you have to let me know whether you want it or not through good ol' fashioned communication.**

**Enjoy!**


End file.
